


To take Root and to Leave

by Brownies96



Series: Good Omens Missing Chapters [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Exodus - Freeform, Genesis - Freeform, Multi, Pre-Slash, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-23 23:50:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20898170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brownies96/pseuds/Brownies96
Summary: The rest of Aziraphale and Crowley (Crawley, really)'s interactions throughout the Old Testament Biblical times.The tower, as far as anyone was concerned, was the highest structure ever built by humanity. It was much higher, in fact, than humanity ought to be able to build. This was because among the humans, demons were at work. One such demon, stood near the top, his black wings hidden, but ready to spread. It is in the nature of all creatures with wings to wish to be high up, and the demon, Crawley, is no exception.





	1. Where fiddly translation problems began

**Author's Note:**

> I am a Quaker (member of the Religious Society of Friends), which means I am what you could maybe think of as Christian-adjacent. I have done my best to make sure this work is respectful, or at worst, only disrespectful as you would see Crowley be in canon. I am also probably projecting my own relationship with faith in this a bit, so erm, sorry, I guess.

2083BC Shinar, Tower of Babel

The tower, as far as anyone was concerned, was the highest structure ever built by humanity. It was much higher, in fact, than humanity ought to be able to build. This was because among the humans, demons were at work. One such demon, stood near the top, his black wings hidden, but ready to spread. It is in the nature of all creatures with wings to wish to be high up, and the demon, Crawley, is no exception.

He had been given this place of honour, or rather, no other demons felt like fighting him for it, because he was the serpent from the garden of Eden, and despite not being of a particularly high rank in Hell, his actions still counted for something.

He could hear the whispers drifting up from below. The humans were marvelling at their own creation, still too new as a species to think to second guess their supernatural help. The demons, well, their whispers were of far greater significance.

“If it were really so easy to go back, we’d have done it already,” whispered Furcas

“We’re trying it now,” Ukobach whispers back, as if that somehow proved that it would work.

The order from His Unholiness, Satan, King of Hell, had been to make as many humans fall from Her Grace as possible, but in it some demons were hoping for a way back.

The Fall had been worse than anyone had expected. Most demons never speak of it, and the one’s that do only say anything when they know no-one is listening. Physically falling, even burning up in hellfire, hadn’t been as bad as the other thing. Losing Her. Demon-kind had bonded together in their misery, and had formed a mockery of what their life had once been like, with their ringleader, Lucifer, the light bringer, at the top of the chain of command. He was a poor fit for the hole in their essences where She had once been. But at least he was present, they told themselves, at least when he issued an order it came from his mouth, and at least they get to make as many other beings as miserable as they are.

Crawley did not believe they would make their way back into Heaven through this tower. No, this would all come crashing down about their ears. To Fall is to be unforgivable, and he knows it.

The humans looked up as clouds gathered near the spire Crawley hangs off, Crawley wonders if She is speaking to them, the demons cannot hear Her, but the humans can, if they chose to listen.

With no warning, there was a flash of thunder and the tower began to crumble beneath their feet. Rumbles came from the sky they had recently been so close to and a torrent of rain began to fall.

“Shit!” Crawley exclaimed. He had been too close to the top, and the holy lightning singed his hand nastily. It would heal, but the slow way, there was no miracle-ing away Her power. His wings had unfurled, leaving him to glide to the pile of rubble where the tower had once been.

In the distance several angels celebrated. The quietest of them, Aziraphale, flinched as the lightning hit the tower, he hoped at least some of the people had survived.

“You do not cheer, Aziraphale?” Michael said, her eyes cold.

“Oh!” Aziraphale was taken off guard, “No, erm, I mean, yay! Great show everyone!” He said, not remotely convinced of his own words.

Michael did not seem to notice this as she hummed approvingly, peering through the ranks of angels to see if anyone else wasn’t making the correct noises of enthusiasm.

“Yes, yes, great show,” Gabriel agreed beside Aziraphale, “a wonderful display of Her might.”

“Indeed,” Michael agreed before turning on her heel, “Well, that’s enough of that, come on, you all have work to do.” And with that, she, and all the other angels ascended. Well, almost all of them.

“Yes, well, I’ll just catch you up in a moment,’ said Aziraphale to a Gabriel that was much too far away to be listening to him.

He rubbed his hands together and walked sedately over to the ruins of the tower. One of the many useful things about being an angel is that even at a sedate pace, you can reach your destination in record time with one tiny miracle.

He approached a child, they were leaning rather heavily to one side

“Ana hamatia alik,” they said

“I’m sorry,” said Aziraphale, “I can’t understand you.” Languages. This was where fiddly translation problems began. Technically, Aziraphale could speak and understand any language that existed or would ever exist. But once a mind gets used to doing everything one way its rather hard to convince it to switch tracks.

“iâti kiš” the child said in earnest and Aziraphale tried with everything he had to understand it.

“Help me, please.” Aziraphale was momentarily very pleased with himself until he realised that the child’s ribs had been crushed by the rubble.

“Oh dear,” he said, mindful to reply in Akkadian. He waved his hand over the child’s midsection, that ought to have done it. Aziraphale looked up and immediately regretted it. There was so much destruction everywhere, it was a barrage on the senses. People were shouting, desperately trying to make themselves understood through a barrier that no one had ever seen before.

“Ta-ma-de,” said one person who had only fallen a short way by the eastern door, “wo-yao-zuo-le.” Which Aziraphale took to mean, “Fuck this, I’m out of here.” Which was a rather understandable sentiment.

“So, Aziraphale, having a fun morning, are we?” Crawley had slinked his way into Aziraphale’s field of vision. Crawley wasn’t sure why he was even bothering to talk to the angel, the last time they had spoken Aziraphale had made it clear that, however interesting he had been on the wall of Eden, he was not as different from the rest of them as Crawley had hoped.

“Really Crawley, How can you ask me such a thing?” Aziraphale was genuinely hurt by the statement.

“I dunno, seemed like your lot were rather enjoying the show,” Crawley said, bitter nonchalance clear with every syllable.

Aziraphale felt a pang as he recalled his earlier words “Good show”. “No,” he said. “Angles do not enjoy the suffering of humanity!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night-or whatever it is you do at night,” Crawley said, smiling rather mockingly at Aziraphale.

“I’m not the one who decided to try something as stupid as this!” Aziraphale said defensively.

It is important to note that, at this point, Aziraphale truly believed that the demons had only meant to use the tower to cause humanity to sin, and while that was partially true, it would not be for many years before he even conceived of the other reason.

“Oh well, I’m ssso ssorry that this wasn’t what you exsspected!” Said Crawley sarcastically, “I’m sure there was no way you could possssibly have seen this coming.”

“warrin piallumukan!” Came a cry not far from them.

“I’m going to go see to that,” said Aziraphale resolutely, determined to ignore Crawley, walking over to the person buried under layers of rubble.

It always seemed to end like this, the two of them, surrounded by chaos and rain. Crawley wondered if Aziraphale would ever shelter him from it again.


	2. Nothing left to find

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains Biblically "accurate" sexual references. Please look after yourselves

2041BC Sodom and Gomorrah

“This way. Quickly.” The frantic whisper urged the family on, through a small opening in the city gates. The children went first, then the mother with her baby, and finally the father. He looked back to thank their saviour but was ushered through with the wave of a hand.

“Go. As quickly as you can, get as far away as possible!” Said Aziraphale, angel of the Eastern Gate. He looked around frantically, hoping against hope that Michael or Gabriel or someone would call off the attack.

It had all happened so fast even by human standards. One inappropriate comment and suddenly the cities had to burn.

There was a gust of wind beside Aziraphale. “Ah yes, good to see someone thought to guard that hole in the wall,” said an angel Aziraphale only recognised by sight. “I heard some stragglers were trying to escape through it. Have you seen any?”

“No,” Aziraphale lied, “erm-“

“Sandalphon,” the angel introduced himself. Aziraphale could see he carried a golden morning star, at least it must have been golden, but it was currently saturated with blood.

“Aziraphale,” said Aziraphale, his eyes still on the morning star.

“Yes, it’s nice isn’t it?” Sandalphon had mistaken his gaze for interest, “But I hear you have a flaming sword, this doesn’t really hold a candle to that.” Sandalphon exhaled a chuckle, “Get it? Candle? Flaming Sword?”

“Oh. Yes.” Aziraphale managed a weak smile, he wished he were somewhere else. “I say!” He said, looking pointedly over Sandalphon’s shoulder. “Is that an erotic fresco?”

“Where?” Sandalphon whipped around in search of the offending piece of art.

“Erm, just around that building I think,” Aziraphale said, willing Sandalphon to fall for the ruse.

As the world was only 1,963 years old at this point, most ruses, tricks, and other ploys had not yet been invented, and even if they had, they had not yet become so overused that they were clichés. Lying was still a rather new invention and most angels still hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it. Demons of course, had taken to lying like ducks to water, but angels, if any angels were lying, they were quite a bit better at hiding it, like one of those invisible, microscopic, planktons to water. So it should come as no surprise that Sandalphon immediately went racing off in search of this erotic fresco, ready to bludgeon anyone or electrocute anyone who stopped to admire it. He was yet to realise that, when afraid, humans don’t really have time to appreciate art, erotic or not.

Crawley had woken up to the smell of sulphur. It was a home-y sort of smell for a demon, used to fire and brimstone. Of course, Crawley spent as much time away from his infernal ‘home’ as possible, Earth was so much nicer and humans were so imaginative, with their farming and smelting and fermenting (Crawley was a particular fan of that last one).

“Whatzz all of this?” Came a voice from the window. Window might be generous word for it, ‘hole in the wall’ was generally more accurate but since better windows had not been invented yet this can be considered something of a window prototype.

“Lord Beelzebub,” said Crawley, bowing at the window.

“Crawley, if this is some kind of dizzaster then we have no time to waste, after all, what God would do such a thing,” said Beelzebub

“Yes, my lord,” said Crawley now a lot more awake but when he turned back to the window the fly that had been talking to him was gone.

From his room in Zoar he could hear screams and see the blaze, it made him wonder why he’d bothered to leave Hell if they were going to bring it up here with them. But then he saw the flashes of lightning. Ah. A punishment for humanity.

Crawley pulled on some clothes and made the questionable decision to go have a look. It is worth mentioning that although Crawley is referred to as a ‘he’ here, he was most certainly not dressed in the way most people would associate with that pronoun. Angels and, by relation, demons are not constrained by ancient or modern ideas of gender and sex. Crawley was inclined to dress however she pleased and if anyone tried to stop her, woe betide them. There might be language to express this in modern times, and there were even some in ancient times, but Crawley didn’t care to define himself or herself or themself all that much. Neither, on that note, did Aziraphale. For the purposes of this story, Crawley will be described based on what they have chosen to wear and how they have chosen to present themself.

Besides, in 2041BC just about all clothing was sheets anyway, the only difference was how you tied them.

By the time Crawley arrived at what had once been Sodom and Gomorrah, they were no longer proud cities, standing tall against the skyline. They had been reduced to piles of still smouldering coals. The air was so hot it seemed to make a hissing noise, sand became glass where flame and lightning had crashed against it. The citizens that had been lucky enough to avoid the angels’ fury had burned alive, their blood boiling within them and sending them to either Heaven or Hell. Crawley wasn’t sure which option was worse.

Beside the rubble stood Aziraphale, and just for a moment, Crawley saw some hint of the angel he had met on the wall of Eden. Aziraphale kneeled before the wreckage, his hands moving slowly through the sand. He lifted one palm up, sieving the sand as if he was searching for something, as if he didn’t know there was nothing left to find.

Part of Crawley, the part that was still upset about the Ark and the Tower, wanted to gloat at Aziraphale, to ask him how it felt to be a part of something that did this, destroyed without mercy and covered it all up behind claims of holiness that were becoming more unfounded by the second. But one look at Aziraphale’s face – Was that a tear? – silenced that part of her, at least for the meantime.

Crawley cleared her throat in a way she hoped looked natural (it wasn’t, demons don’t need to clear their throats). Aziraphale looked up slowly.

“Crawley,” was all he said.

“Aziraphale.” Crawley was surprised by how much she wanted to stay, how much she wanted to make Aziraphale feel better, even after their last encounter. She didn’t understand, not properly, how Aziraphale’s pain hurt her as well.

“It took one comment,” Aziraphale said, still looking at the ruins, “One comment and all of it . . . Gone.”

“What was the comment?” Crawley asked.

“Something someone said to Lot,” Aziraphale paused, “I think someone mistook his friends for well erm, courtesans, at dinner and asked to see them.”

“Did they show up in the middle of the night to have a secret conversation?” Crawley asked, seeing where this was going.

“Well, yes.” Aziraphale turned to look at him for real, “And well, they asked him to share.”

“Shit,” Crawley said.

“Quite.” Aziraphale agreed.

“I still don’t see why two entire cities had to be destroyed for that.” Crawley looked around at what had once been two cities.

“Its because . . .” Aziraphale paused.

“Yes?” Crawley urged.

“It’s because of the culture. It isn’t right to go about making assumptions about these sorts of things, and less so to demand that erm, such things be shared.” Aziraphale was no longer looking at Crawley, it was as though his hands had suddenly become very interesting.

“I thought your lot were all about sharing,” Crawley said unkindly.

“Not like this! Not when people aren’t given the option to say no!” Aziraphale exclaimed.

“They have that option; your lot just don’t like it when they say ‘yes’.” Crawley gave Aziraphale a ruthless smile, almost a smirk, really. Crawley had invented them recently.

‘Don’t act as though none of this is your fault.” Aziraphale said firmly. “They would have been perfectly alright if your lot had just left them alone.”

“A few temptations here and there are not what made this,” Crawley gestured down at what had once been Gomorrah, “humans have ‘free will’ remember? This is as much your fault as it is mine.”

“Go away, Crawley.” Aziraphale turned back to the ruins, his face obscured.

“Ooh, did I strike a nerve?” Crawley mocked, sick of being the one to take the fall. She was done Falling, she was a demon, nothing more, nothing less. And she was certainly not personally responsible for the choices made by the population of two entire cities.

“Go away!” Aziraphale said again, thunder in his voice.

So Crawley did, leaving Aziraphale with the destroyed cities.


	3. You cut it a bit fine there, didn’t you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about the Binding of Isaac, so if you don't feel up to dealing with just-averted child murder, this chapter is not for you.

2043BC Mountain of the Lord, Moriah

If Crawley had been surprised when she’d heard, then she was deeply shocked now. It had been Ligur who had mentioned it:

“Apparently God is going to make one of Her chosen people kill his only son,” he’d said, “It’s not one of ours, is it?” He’d added to Hastur, who was in the vicinity.

“Not one that I know anything about,” Hastur had replied in a tone that very clearly said ‘I have better things to do than worry about this’. He did not, in fact, have anything better to do, but he thought he did. He was trying to learn how to play Senet, a game the Egyptians had invented some thousand years earlier. Hastur had just discovered that they were using the game to gamble and he quite liked the idea.

But with Ligur’s words still in her mind, Crawley had made her way back to earth (she’d only stopped by Hell to file a report) and was off looking for some kind of signal of holy power that would tell her where to go.

It didn’t take long for Crawley to find them; they were walking up the mountain that loomed over the land of Moriah. Abraham, a very old man by now, had always been a favourite of the Almighty. So much so that She’d fixed his erectile dysfunction problem when he was really far too old to father a child. Lucky for him, She also liked his wife, Sarah, enough to bring things along on that end as well.

And there was the child they’d had, Isaac. Really more of a young man now.

Crawley watched them reach the top, watched Abraham whisper something to his son and begin to bind him to the rock. Isaac struggled and Crawley approached him as a snake, slithering behind the altar where they boy’s head lay.

“You could get out of it, you’ve still got one arm free, take the knife from his belt-“

“No!” Isaac screamed, and Crawley wasn’t sure if he was saying to her or to Abraham, at least until the words followed, they were much softer this time. “Father, if the Lord demands a sacrifice then . . .”

Tears filled Isaacs eyes, he could see all of the life he was giving up, sacrificing himself, but he was willing to do it. Crawley wanted to scream, she moved away from the alter and transformed back to her human body. What kind of God does this to the people She is supposed to love? What kind of God asks this of someone, to sacrifice their only child? And for the child to willing sacrifice themselves? It was terrible to behold, but somehow Crawley couldn’t look away.

Abraham raised his knife and began to recite a prayer in Her honour, as if She deserved it.

“No!” Came a voice that Crawley was deeply relieved to hear. She shook herself; demons weren’t supposed to be happy that angels showed up.

Aziraphale had manifested himself before Abraham, stopping the blade with his palm. Near Crawley’s feet, a bag of dried and spiced apricots rolled about on the ground. Aziraphale must have dropped them in his haste to stop the blade.

“Oh well done, Abraham,” Aziraphale was saying, “The Almighty is pleased with your respect, fear, and desire to do as you are bid.” In her hiding space, Crawley made a face. “The Lord asks that you sacrifice this ram instead, and that you know that blessings will be upon you and your family.”

Abraham and Isaac did as they were bid and Aziraphale wondered over to where Crawley was, in search of his apricots.

“You cut it a bit fine there, didn’t you?” Crawley asked, eyebrows raised.

“I was running late,” said Aziraphale defensively. “What are you doing here, anyway, Crawley?”

“Oh, I just popped up to see the show.” She said, directing her finest irony at Aziraphale. “I wonder how he feels.” She gestured to Isaac. “Knowing that his dad was just about to knock him off.”

“I’m sure he understands,” said Aziraphale absently, peering around.

“Looking for these?” Crawley asked, in her hand she held the bag of apricots, miraculously clean despite their stint on the mountain floor.

“I-I erm, that is to say,” Aziraphale faltered, “yes.”

Crawley handed the bag over. Their hands touching for the briefest moment. “I hope you enjoy them, given what they almost cost,” she said, “see you around.”

Aziraphale watched as Crawley flew away, he’d always supposed that touching a demon would be like touching hellfire. In the past, when they’d come into physical contact with one another, it had always been fast and accidental, with distractions like crumbling buildings or the first rainstorm. This time, it had felt very deliberate, at least on Crawley’s part, and Aziraphale had been surprised to find that it hadn’t felt like burning at all, in fact Crawley’s hands had been colder than his own. Many miles away, Crawley stared at the hand that had brushed Aziraphale much like Aziraphale was doing on the mountaintop. Surely, it should have hurt, or looked different, or something. But instead they were just hands.


	4. Don’t mention it. Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This covers the first half of Exodus so if you don't want to deal with slavery or mentions of the final plague of Egypt (the first born son thing) then maybe don't read this chapter. Use only as directed, ask your doctor if Biblical fanfiction is right you you

1896BC Egypt

The slave encampments of the Israelites were looking a lot worse for wear. It didn’t matter if you forsook Her, if you decided you could not believe in a God who let the Pharaoh declare your people a slave race, you were still a slave. It was these people that Crawley had come to know in the last 200 years, the ones who had given up on Abraham, on the promised land. He had modelled himself as a merchant, one who didn’t mind slipping a round of flatbread and a few dates into the hands of the slaves that passed him by.

It was easy soul collecting as far as Crawley was concerned. But then, the lost prince Moses had returned and the plagues had begun.

Blood, frogs, lice, flies, pestilence of livestock, boils, storm of rain and fire, locusts. Most recently, She had taken away the sun for 3 days. Each had come and ravaged those who had anything, leaving the Israelite slaves, who had nothing, better off than most. The Egyptians had not seen that if you take all material possessions away then you have nothing to lose.

Aziraphale had come too, alongside the Lord in Her burning bush, and he had followed Moses back to Egypt. It was hard for Aziraphale to reconcile what he knew to be God, the light that existed in all living things, the kindness and love, with what was happening here. He knew there had been a terrible lack of Her light here, the treatment of Her chosen people. He knew it had to be stopped. He knew it had to be stopped so loudly that the echoes of it through history would make sure it never happened again.

Was it fair to the Egyptians? The ones who had never owned slaves themselves, but had watched the plight if the Israelites and done nothing? Aziraphale hoped they would see – if anything could make them see it would be this – and would beg for forgiveness. He, certainly, would grant it. Everyone deserved a chance to be better. Just look at Moses, former Prince of Egypt, now the leader of a retinue of a holy message: My people are not your property.

So by the banks of the Nile, Aziraphale sat, carefully teaching each family the special symbol. “Paint it above your door, stay inside and have faith that the Lord will deliver us.” He said to each family he passed. He did not discriminate between those who had followed them from Midian, those who had joined Moses in Egypt, those who had forsaken Her, and those who had never believed at all. If they were willing to put their faith in this, the power of God, then they would be spared this final, terrible, plague. Aziraphale was, after all, a being of Love.

It did not take long for Aziraphale to come to Crawley’s tent.

“Crawley?” He said raising the flap of the doorway.

“Aziraphale, I should have known you’d be here,” Crawley had covered himself in blankets in an effort to keep warm without sunlight.

“Erm, well, it is a rather important time, I don’t know if you’ve heard-“ Aziraphale began.

“Oh I know, draw the symbol over your door, don’t leave tonight. When are you going to give the sun back?” Crawley asked artlessly.

“Tomorrow morni- Crawley! This is so much more than that, more than the rivers of blood, more than the animals, more than the sickness, more than the storms! If the people do not know the symbol then they will lose that which is so deeply precious to them that there will be no recovery.” Crawley had never seen Aziraphale so worked up. So he asked the question that he really hoped would receive a negative answer:

“Worse than Sodom and Gomorrah?”

Aziraphale just nodded

“And it can all be stopped with your symbol?” Crawley was puzzled, it was such a small thing that could change so much.

“Yes,” Aziraphale breathed, an idea flashing in his mind, “Crawley, you could spread it! You could tell your contacts here!”

“Aziraphale,” Crawley said, standing and walking over to him, “I can’t.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale had forgotten for a moment. How had he forgotten? Crawley was a demon, he could not spread a symbol of God, what they would do to him . . . it didn’t bear thinking about.

“But I can stay out of your way,” Crawley offered, not knowing why he wanted to do something. He hated slavery, he had thought, time and time again, that if God really cared about these people, She would put an end to it. This was Her doing it. He couldn’t even grudge Her all the souls he had lost for Hell as Moses had shown them proof that She cared about them.

He knew there would be a reckoning when he returned, he’d have to find somewhere to hide out until he could start more trouble somewhere else. If Aziraphale was telling the truth, and he was an angel, surely, he was, then it would be best for him to leave.

“Thank you, Crawley,” Aziraphale said, placing a hand on Crawley’s shoulder as he brushed past him to leave.

“Don’t mention it,” Crawley said. “Ever.”

* * *

Crawley watched as Moses raised his staff, he felt the flood of holy power so closely made his chest ache, but sure enough, there was Aziraphale, helping the Israelites through the ocean floor that had so suddenly become exposed.

The creatures on the sea floor moved about in shock, they had never been exposed like this before. The one’s in Aziraphale’s path were grateful to be gently placed back in their aquatic home.

“He did well,” Crawley said in Aziraphale’s ear, “all things considered, I mean.”

“I think he’s a bit put out to be honest, he kept hoping the Pharaoh would come around,”

“Well, you can’t have everything. I suppose all this,” Crawley gestured around at the pillars of ocean around them, “will come crashing down on the Egyptians when they catch up to you all?”

“That is the general plan, yes.” Aziraphale looked around for the Egyptians, he could just spot them entering the seabed.

“I didn’t manage to than-“ Aziraphale started.

‘Sshut it,” Crawley ordered. He looked at Aziraphale again, and the truth twisted a knife in his stomach. “Next time we see each other-“

“I know, we’ll be on opposing sides again. And I forgive you.” Aziraphale said.

“I’m a demon, Aziraphale, I’m unforgivable and don’t you forget it.”


	5. Ten-Step Program

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, we have made it to Exodus part 2. I decided to skip the murder and stuff because writing it all was getting really depressing, so instead enjoy this conversation about God's 10-step program for getting into Heaven.

1895BC Mt Sinai

“Nice cow, Aaron, is that real gold?” Crawley said, carelessly enjoying himself. Less than a year since they’d made it out of Egypt, seen literal proof of Her Grace, and they were already off worshipping a statue that did nothing but glimmer in the sunlight. Sometimes his job was too easy. No wonder She got tetchy enough to destroy entire civilisations.

“Really, do you have to-,” and there was Aziraphale, right on cue, “Oh, it’s you, Crawley, I suppose you do have to.” Aziraphale was whatever the angelic equivalent was of exhausted. He had been ordered to hand out manna – food that had been imbued with holy power, and it was certainly a lot of work to make sure that everyone’s food had something extra to it. Also, it was perhaps a bit emotionally draining for Aziraphale to part with so much delicious food, even if the humans needed it more than he did.

“Well, yeah, I’m not just here for the scenery, though I have to say I quite like the name of the place,” Crawley joked.

“Oh, I get it Sin-ai, you would like it,” Aziraphale choked down his chuckle, he was at work, after all.

Crawley shrugged roguishly and grinned at Aziraphale. “So, is he going to come down soon, or is he too busy having tea and biscuits with Her?”

“You know full well that tea hasn’t made it over here yet,” said Aziraphale, “but I do wonder why they’re taking so long. It is getting a bit late.” He fidgeted nervously, his eyes darting up to the top of the mountain every few seconds. It was typical that it was on the rare occasion that Aziraphale was looking somewhere else (disapprovingly at the golden calf), when Moses did emerge.

“Here he comes now,” Crawley said, tapping Aziraphale on the shoulder, “What’s that he’s got with him?”

“Ah, those are stone tablets with the ten commandments She has for Her chosen people.” Aziraphale rubbed his hands together.

“Like what, don’t eat apples?” Crawley asked sceptically.

“No, its um,” Aziraphale tried to remember, “No other gods, only Her.”

“Fair enough,” Crawley shrugged.

“No taking Her name in vain, you know? No invoking Her without good reason,” Aziraphale continued.

“What? Never?”

“Not unless absolutely necessary. Then erm, Sunday is to be the day of rest,” Aziraphale looked at Moses nervously as he bellowed over the crowds amassed at the base of the mountain.

“I do enjoy a rest, but I thought sloth was a sin?” Crawley questioned (it was, after all, what he did best).

“Honour your parents,” Aziraphale continued as if he hadn’t heard Crawley.

“What if they suck?” Crawley added, rather enjoying interrogating Aziraphale.

“No murder, no adultery, no lying about people, no lusting after someone who isn’t interested.” Aziraphale ticked them off on his hands.

Ouch, Crawley thought, “That’s 9, what else?” he said.

“Oh, erm, no coveting things you can’t have.”

Wow, OK that was definitely uncalled for. Crawley glared at the sky as if She was watching. He reassembled his thoughts and the beginnings of an idea stirred in him.

“Well, good luck with the ten-step program,” he said, ironically brightly. “Since you’ve basically just banned fun and human nature,” he shrugged roguishly again, “should be interesting.”

“We haven’t banned fun, food and music and such are still very much allowed,” Aziraphale said indignantly. ‘And at least now they know what not to do.”

“Yeah, they know now. What’s going to happen when people decide to write some more rules of their own?” Crawley said, arching an eyebrow. “It’s never gonna end here, Aziraphale, they’ll twist these rules as much as they can, they’ll give the rules rules.”

“Have some faith in them!” Aziraphale appealed. Crawley just gave him a look. This look said: remember who you’re talking to, and also a very sarcastic ‘yeah, sure’.

“Right,” said Aziraphale, flustered by the look, nothing more, what else would it be? “Well, I suppose I have some work to do, so if I can . . .”

“Oh don’t mind me,” Crawley said. “I’m just here to watch.” Had popcorn been invented yet, Crawley would have conjured some and sat down to watch. As it hadn’t, he had to content himself by looking down at the mass of people, a smug expression making itself very comfortable on his face.


	6. A bit much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically this chapter is based on the book of Leviticus (the worst book in the Bible and no I won't take that back). I have written it in such a way that it isn't outright homophobic but if discussion of any of this in uncomfortable for you, feel free to skip this. Idk if this helps but I am a big gay and if you need to message me to talk about anything, know that my inbox is always free and you are welcome with open arms.

1562BC the Tabernacle

After the writing of the ten commandments, Her chosen people had begun to set up a travelling society of sorts. It was fascinating, Aziraphale thought, how they could create it, despite never having seen the other nomadic societies on Earth yet. At the centre of it all was the Tabernacle, a large tent that was Her temple, and would eventually be known as one of Her first churches. The Israelites did their best to live as She had commanded, but – much to Aziraphale’s chagrin – Crawley had been right.

The Levi, the sons of Aaron, the priest class of the Tabernacle, seemed to create more rules every other day. Some of them were sensible, such as the idea of communicable diseases and how to avoid them. But a great many of them were, well, a bit much.

“And all are born with original sin, even babes must beg forgiveness from the Lord,” cried the Levi from the entrance to the Tabernacle.

“Really, I don’t remember tempting any babies,” said a voice in Aziraphale’s ear, “they don’t really want much other than milk and attention.”

“Crawley, what on Earth are you doing here?” Aziraphale asked, looking around nervously, there were plenty of angels who wanted to look in on Her chosen people from time to time.

“I just stopped by to tell you I told you so. Besides, I’m here on business too.” Crawley replied.

“What do you mean business? Oh you can’t mean with these people.” Aziraphale gestured out at the Tabernacle.

“Hate to break it to you, but yeah, these people it is. I’ve been given an order from the top, well, bottom,” Crawley corrected himself.

“But they’re finally happy,” Aziraphale sighed.

“Is that what you’re calling it? Half of them get kicked out of the settlement once a month, they can’t have sex unless the priest says it’s OK, and apparently, they’re all so sinful they have to beg for forgiveness anyway. Do you know how many of them have decided ‘fuck this, if I’m so sinful anyway, I might as well enjoy it’?” Crawley asked.

“I have no idea,” Aziraphale replied.

“Me neither, because every time I think I’ve found all of them, more pop up. You’d think with all these angels around they wouldn’t, but they do.” Crawley barked out a laugh.

“I will admit, they seem to have gotten a bit carried away. I do miss roast pork,” Aziraphale conceded, before immediately regretting it.

“The thing is, they don’t really see the difference between the evil of eating roast pork and the evil of murder, because the punishment is the same.” Crawley took a step away from Aziraphale, “Well, have fun with your rules, I’m sure they’ve done you ever so much good,” he said, sarcasm thick in the air.

It was difficult for Aziraphale to talk to Crawley under the circumstances, he had hoped that perhaps She would see that even though he was a demon, Crawley did have something of a point. But when he pointed these issues out to Gabriel, well, it would have been more use talking to the tent wall. “She has a plan” Gabriel would say, leaving it at that. Aziraphale knew She had a plan, he just hoped it was going to be a bit more effable soon.


End file.
